Work Text:
In your name
It had taken time.
Oh, so much time.
Perhaps it was because they were always on shifting sands and not the bedrock, smooth and sturdy and unyielding. They were on the waves of the ocean sea, currents that ebbed and flowed that could at any time stir up in violent rage or lay wide, flat in its calmness.
Things changed.
The only thing in life that is constant is change.
And any change; change for the good, change for the bad, it takes time.
Blackbeard had always taken, plundered, unhesitatingly snatched ruthlessly; if he wanted it, he was going to have it. Because it was decided: that they were not the type of people that deserved fine things. They never deserved fine things because all they did was unworthy, and they would just soil and defile the beauty. So what he wanted, he would need to take.
Stede had always been given, been led towards what he thought he needed, wanted in life – a silver platter and on it, a gourmet feast that he had never dreamed of, what more asked for. All the stepping stones were laid ahead before him in his path that he had never really chosen, only promises of a good and comfortable life and expectations of success and money because you were deranged if you did not want this. Deranged and ungrateful and blind. You are unworthy, you are pathetic, this is all for you and do not throw it away.
And maybe that was why when they had finally reached that point in their relationship, it was change; change that was alien and far from familiar because Edward had never known how to receive (not take) something that was given so willingly, and Stede had never know how to give something that he would always have, even if he was so very unworthy of it.
It was no surprise that – both of them – even in the accepting throes of reunion and after weathering storms after storms and crashing waves that seemed to go every way against what they were trying to go towards to – each other; when they were finally together, in heart and in soul, it was unfamiliar.
Strange.
As strange as holding the quill in his hands and learning to read, write, for Ed. And as strange as the feel of gun oil in his hands as Stede learned to clean a gun, dismantling it and reassembling it like broken pieces of heart made whole again.
As strange as it felt this night, as they had lain together on the bed, undressing each other in the warm glow of candlelight as they kissed, much more experienced now than they had been on that beach now; gentle tangle of tongues slow and searching, hands caressing the familiar dips and curves as calloused fingers (Stede’s perhaps less callous, smooth fingerpads slightly marred by healed cuts and scrapes) traced cheekbones, the rugged outline of the jawline.
It had grown heated and neither could deny the burning arousal that lay so very naked and hard between them, hot silk of heated flesh catching on bare skin, teeth occasionally gnashing over lips when the delicious friction found its heady pleasure in their dance, entwining as they held each other in the tight confines of the bed.
A growl, and Ed had reached down between their thighs, breaths coming in frantic gusts and oh, Stede forgot to breathe, forgot for that one moment to be embarrassed or hold back anything, when those fingers, almost cold on his heated shaft wrapped around his cock and fisted.
Apparently, Stede had enough breath left to keen and jolt his hips up involuntarily, pushing into the tight hold that caused his foreskin to slide off, the pink head slicking pre-cum onto the large, rough palm.
“Tell me how you like it.” Ed spoke, the rough, prickly hairs of the reforming beard tickling the shell of Stede’s ear as Ed leaned over, pushing their naked bodies closer together, erect nipples pressing against the coarse dusting of each other’s chest hair, skin slick with sweat.
How could he tell Ed anything when he couldn’t even breathe right now? For someone so eloquent and well-read everything in head, his thoughts were just more and want and fuck fuck fuck.
“I don’t know.” Stede finally stuttered. “Ah!” A whimper as the grip tightened experimentally. “This is- this is fine. Good. Very good.”
“You don’t have to be polite.” Ed murmured. “Tell me. Tell me how you pleasure yourself. Is it like this?”
A swipe on the exposed tip and Stede arched, a curved plane and hitched breath, biting back a cry.
“Or this?”
The strong hand reached to grip the very base, the hilt of his cock and grasped it, pulling upwards and Stede groaned hoarsely. And then it stopped, the pressure eased. Oh, answer, answer. Ed was waiting for an answer.
“I was told-” Stede said between breaths, opening his eyes and looking into the dark gaze with blown pupils that had almost scared him but now he loved. He loved so much, he could drown in that sweet honey-brown void. As in preparation for his next words, he squeezed his eyes shut. “That it causes you to go… blind.”
A click of a tongue in understanding, Stede heard, and then Stede felt, more than heard the warm rumble, a fond chuckle that rose in Ed’s chest like a wave against him. Ed pulled away slightly, and there was a slight fear that rose in Stede’s chest with the sudden chill that swept across his chest now that they were no longer pressed together; but Ed was still holding him in his palm, gently stroking.
“Can’t imagine what it would be like not doing it, to be frank. Months at sea-”
“Surely you, of all people, would have no-,” Stede swallowed. “No issues with finding a willing soul.” Although it was the truth, it burned in Stede’s heart that this was Blackbeard. Ed was Blackbeard. He could have taken so many partners and now it was him.
“No, it wasn’t.” Ed’s response sounded strained. “But sometimes… I just didn’t want to search and not find it.”
“It?”
“It feels different. When you’re with someone you love.”
“Does it?”
“I won’t lie, Stede. I’ve fucked around. Been fucked.” Stede couldn’t imagine Ed being fucked, but there was this jealousy that rose inside him still. It abated slightly, when Ed had moved to put their softening cocks together in his large grip, gliding lazily. “You had a family.”
It was a question, although it didn’t sound like one, Stede knew.
“Well, I-“ Stede started to respond, but the memory returned unbidden.
Mary smelled soft, as she always did after they cleansed themselves, padded to the bed in unison and laid themselves under the covers as they always had since their night of their consummation of marriage, as it had always been since then.
Then it would be light kisses as they eased themselves, rubbing and sometimes, he rued to think, that it did feel like a chore and his mind would drift elsewhere as he suspected Mary did as well. But usually friction would do its job and if they closed their eyes sometimes it seemed smoother as they both became slicker to the touch, moans and grunts as he spent in her.
They both never really seemed to like it as much as what the tittering gossip had inferred. Of course, he was her husband and her, his wife, and under the contract of God they would consummate and bear the fruit of their loins like they meant to do and Stede had never really had an objection to that but-
But couldn’t this be made a bit more fun?
Was it not supposed to be fun?
And so one night, when he was preparing to enter her and fulfill his duty as a husband yet again (it wasn’t bad, it felt good, it did – his duty) Stede thought maybe, he could try to have a bit of fun, change it around a bit.
And he had looked down at Mary from his position above her, open and trusting, he decided to tease.
“Prepare yourself to be boarded!” Stede had said with gusto, although he had not really meant for it to come out that loudly. It couldn’t have gone worse than he imagined.
Mary balked, moving her splayed hips away from him and jolted up, her hitched up nightgown falling back down. “Shuuuushhhh!” Mary put a finger to her lips, her eyes big. “You’ll wake Louis!”
Stede had winced. “Sorry, I’ll keep it down.”
Mary nodded, the light frown not leaving her brow as she nodded back quietly, moving to lay herself down and lifting her cotton nightgown.
“Prepare yourself to be boarded,” he whispered instead as he thrust his hips forwards gently, but was met with a strangled sound from them both. He had softened considerably during the exchange, and she was no longer as slick as she was earlier.
“Not your thing?” He asked, apologetic.
“Not my thing.” She pursed her lips in response. “Sorry.”
And he was lily-livered, pathetic little rich boy Stede again. He ruined everything. He wasn’t fulfilling his duty as a husband now, not tonight, because he wanted it to be good for both of them. She shouldn’t be apologizing. Tears slid down unbidden from his brown eyes, his heart clenching.
Mary didn’t scold him, but she didn’t lift a hand to wipe at his tears either.
“It’s okay.” She said to him. And somehow, it hurt.
“It was never really… good.” Stede replied, back now from his thoughts and he noticed that he gone limp in Ed’s hands. Ed had let go of both of them, but there was still no lack of space between them as Ed had lifted his hand instead, to wipe away the tears that had collected at the corner of Stede’s eyes. “I mean it didn’t hurt. It went well. It was just what… I was supposed to do, I think. A duty.”
Ed was quiet as he ran his thumb down Stede flushed cheeks (it had to be flushed, he could feel the heat, smoldering) and Stede reached over, grasping onto the lifted hand, twining his fingers around Ed’s wrist gently. The candlelight was warm, covers shifted aside in their shared heat but Stede almost swore he felt Ed shiver at that gentle touch on his tattooed arm.
“Could you teach me?” Stede asked, gazing openly at Ed. “How it could be different, with someone you love?”
Ed swallowed, dark eyes suddenly sad and his voice was tired as he whispered. “I don’t know how.”
It made sense and didn’t, all at once. Blackbeard would have had taken many lovers, many wives. He was a legend, a floating shadow with glowering eyes that was so fearsome anyone who bend to his will or be ruthlessly beheaded by his sword, or worse, tortured. Because what would Blackbeard do? Blackbeard would plunder, would take and steal and rob.
Blackbeard would not be used to something given so willingly, so bare.
Stede understood. He understood so well in that moment his heart leapt and he had tightened his grip around Ed’s wrist, using this to draw their faces closer together and said as he pressed his lips to Ed’s cheeks. “Then, let’s learn together.”
And the reply, the reply was tentative next to Stede’s ear that he felt Ed’s lips part, his throat rumbling in response. “I don’t suppose this would be a good time to ask… the boy for advice?”
The boy?
“The boy?” Lucius. It had taken Stede some moments to process. And he when did he laughed, oh God did he laugh. “Oh for fucks’ sake, no. Not now.” He laughed. They both laughed.
Maybe it was how it was supposed to be, fun, open. It didn’t have to be perfect.
Although it felt perfect, so perfect as they lay there together, limp cocks against sweaty bodies and they held each other, rocking through the laughter in its throes. The windows were cracked open slightly, and the sea breeze blew in cold, relief in its wake. The silk dressing gowns and strips of fabric, leather, and belts, boots were strewn on the floor as the ship lulled, creaked against the slapping of the waves.
Stede hadn’t laughed so much in a while, and that rare smile that bloomed on Ed’s face – if he could he would sketch it, keep it under his pillow but wait, he didn’t need to, because it was all right in front of him right now – breathing and living.
How does it feel… to be in love?
It feels.. easy. It’s just like breathing
It was like breathing.
Inexperienced, unfamiliar, but Stede knew, desired it from the bottom of his heart to map out all the curves and dips on Ed’s body. Sliding tender fingers over the beautifully decorated skin that had inked in it the sea and tales and adventures, some more clearly told than others apparent from the lighter, raised scar tissue on the bronzed torso. Following the fluffy, dark trail on Ed’s abdomen that led to the rougher, salt and pepper strands that nested the thick, iron-hard rigidness of arousal.
Hands, then mouth and tongue. Cock almost hilt deep as he strained to pry his jaws open, to feel him at the back of his throat and the want, the longing was almost as strong as the pulling in his lungs.
It was like breathing.
Stede had no idea what he was doing, but every lick, every suck that he experimented with was drawing out all the lust and sending sparks of electricity to his groin, because in response there were moans and startled hitches of breath. And Ed, Ed was arching, curving his back against the flat plane of his tensed torso, sweat rolling off the blushing tanned skin.
Stede’s cock twitched with every movement, every withheld squirm, every repressed sigh and he, he was doing this to Ed – the arousal was so very heady in his head and he did what came naturally, like breathing. He reached for his own heavy cock between his legs, sore and throbbing with need. As he stroked himself frantically, he could taste it, the beads of desire at the edge of this tongue and he closed his eyes, taking a deep pant of a breath and he tensed.
It was a mistake, a bloody mistake.
His skin thrumming with the heat and desire of this all, Stede released, his vision white as he spurted over the sheets, possibly over Ed’s bare toes and toned calves as he shuddered. He thinks – he couldn’t really tell, that there was a snag off teeth that caught on Ed’s cock and he heard hiss of pain; thank God he hadn’t bitten off Ed’s prick in the guttural release.
“Stede.” The voice was faraway, muffled. Stede’s breaths were panting, heaving.
Oh god, Ed hadn’t come, and here Stede was a spent, sweaty mess.
“Ed, I’m sorry-” Stede started, suddenly feeling like the strength had seeped from his bones as he gasped for breath.
All his life Stede had received, received what he was given even though he never deserved it and maybe, just maybe it was about time that he gave and see what would be taken (no, not taken, received willingly because it was given willingly) as he rolled himself over, belly-flopping on the bed and had he missed the sticky, rapidly cooling spend? He hoped he did. He canted his hips, pushing his face into the pillow.
He might not have experienced this or even know what he was putting himself into, but he knew of this – this supposedly taboo act of buggery. Act of fuckery. Act of buggery. It was not as easy as breathing now, but he knew, knew as much as he knew he had to breath that he wanted to do this.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He could hear Ed, voice rough and strained with an edge of surprise. It was a rare moment that Blackbeard sounded surprised, and just like Stede had drank in his smile, he committed this to his memory.
“Bugger me.” His voice sounded muffled even to himself in the plush embrace of the pillow. “Although I’m not entirely sure how it should be done-” He trailed off uncertainly, clearing his throat a little.
“Stede, do you know what you’re doing?” Ed’s tone sounded incredulous, but the good kind, the type that sounded like someone that couldn’t believe at what he was seeing, dreams laid out before him and if Stede hesitated before, that want, that desire in the timbre – he knew for sure now that he would do this. “It will hurt.” Ed warned.
“Stabbing hurt.”
“This is not-” There was a wringing frustration in his tone, like a man not being able to hold back for his own good. A man not used to holding back at all. “This is not stabbing, Stede. Well, it sort of is but it’s not and-”
“I know.” Stede sounded strangely calm in his position.
“No, you don’t.” Another inhale, a muffled curse. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I know I don’t.” Stede swallowed, and all he could see now was not Ed but the fabric of the bedding, the wooden slats and his muscles were getting a tiny bit tired in that awkward position, arse freezing as the sweat dried off. “But I want to.” He reminded Ed. “For you.”
“Why?” It was almost a croaked whisper.
“Because I love Ed. And I want to make Ed happy.”
“You have already made Ed happy.” The voice was slightly further now, moving. When Stede turned to look, straining slightly, he turned to see the gaze of the love of his life, looking back against the warm candlelight, silhouette dark in the backlight of the candelabra flickering in the wind. “Will this make Stede happy?”
“I think-” No more thinking and uncertainty. Stede changed his words. “Stede is happy. But it will make Stede happier and-” Stede paused, it was strange, referring to himself in third person again and his voice wavered. “It will be different, won’t it? With the one you love.”
“It will. I’ll make sure it will.” Ed leaned in, gently tucking the sweaty blond locks aside and kissed Stede’s brow. “I love you.”
I love you.
It might have been the gentlest buggering that Blackbeard had committed himself to in history, but maybe because this was not Blackbeard but Ed. But they were one and the same. The same hands which have unhesitatingly sliced off many a toe, a head, fingers and hands. The same fingers that were slick with blood now slick with oil mixed with sticky seed, warmed in his fingers as they reached in, preparing Stede, easing gently and tenderly. One finger, another.
Holding Stede up as they aligned, the blunt cockhead unlike the sharp tip of a well-oiled sword moving in with the same precision but not the same speed. Stabbing was intimate; love-making was intimate as well and it felt different, not the plunge of sharp edges and cold steel but hot and tight, pain and pleasure all mixed into a heady gasp as fingernails grasped for purchase on the shifting sheets.
And as they moved, tenderly, not quite in unison but it was okay, because it made Stede happy and it made Ed happy and this feeling was love, love and it felt different, felt like breathing and gasping at the same time as they both chased each other towards the edge. And it happened again, that white hot surge of pleasure when the pleasurable nub within Stede was nudged and felt and loved. The white moon and stars hanging in the inky dark cloak of the night shimmering as Stede’s eyes clenched shut (they were shut, why was he seeing stars?) and Stede hips’ clenched, not sure if he was trying to hold up Stede or were they just clinging, grasping for each other.
The sheets were shifting sands between Stede’s fingers, digging deeper as if desperately seeking for bedrock as he yielded like the grains of sand in his minds eye’, releasing his molten need as waves of pleasure were surging again and again, like waves on the sand.
It was not perfect.
Not perfect, as they lay spent, Ed partially on top of Stede as they both lay haphazardly on the splayed sheets, Stede’s knees having given out long ago and Ed was extremely heavy and sweltering. Not perfect, there were accidents with teeth involved, and Stede had been informed that he might feel an awkward stomach ache while his tender hole would take a bit of time to heal from the coupling. He would hurt in strange and unfamiliar places for at least a few days, he reckoned.
Sweat cooling on their backs as the sea breeze blew and Ed shifted. But instead of shifting his weight off Stede, he had reached over, tanned and tattooed arm dark in the waning candlelight; reached to place his palm on top of Stede’s pressing down all the fingers but the index finger.
Stede, still in the haze of pleasure and heat, frowned slightly as he turned his face, cheek resting on the soft bedding as he curiously perked his eyebrows towards his hand cradled in Ed’s grasp.
“I’ve been practising reading. A little.” Ed murmured above him. “And writing.”
“Mmmhm.” Was the non-committal answer. Stede was too drained, too pleasured to think much of it.
And slowly, Ed gripped Stede’s index finger in his, started tracing on the sheets, bathed golden and Stede could see the shadows as Ed moved his finger.
‘S’
Like a snake, he had taught him, slithering and sliding.
‘T’
Like rafters, holding up the roof that it would topple upon them.
‘E’
The first letter of his name. Edward Teach. He would learn to sign his name soon.
‘D’
This was a little tricky at first. It was a tummy, facing outwards full of food because love was stored in the tummy that Stede had. Not smooth planes of muscle but a slight paunch that Ed seemed to indescribably love.
‘E’
The last letter of his name. Ed had written his name with his finger.
“My name.” Stede breathed, lips pulling into a warm smile. “How about yours?”
“I don’t need to write it out again,” Ed circled his index finger again, on the phantom alphabets that were traced previously on the sheets, where the middle part of Stede’s traced name would be. “Y’see? My name is already in yours. Stede. Ed.”
“Hmph then it would seem that I’m yours.” Stede responded fondly. The reference that Ed was inside Stede, both in name and both in body moment ago, did not escape him.
“And I yours, as well.”
There was the creaking of the hull of the ship, quiet snores as the crew slept above, the ever-present rocking that lulled in the salt-spray air and Stede finally managed to regain the strength in his legs to clean them both off with a washcloth, they cuddled, legs tangled and Stede wrapped around Ed because that was how their names wrapped around each other.
And Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate - Stede and Ed, they slept.